


Who's Beautiful Now?

by Ol_Dirty_Sock



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, sorry everyone, sorry mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ol_Dirty_Sock/pseuds/Ol_Dirty_Sock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is tough in LA when you’re nobody, and baby needs a new pair of everything. Jeordie is only looking for some extra cash, but finds a bit more. Porn AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's Beautiful Now?

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely fictional. Also, ridiculous.

Five months in Los Angeles, and Jeordie was already getting disillusioned. He had hoped he’d become jaded after finding fame and fortune. Dream big. But it seemed the “success” step had passed him by and he’d plummeted straight to the gloom. He barely made rent with his job in the kitchen at a dive bar, and got the feeling his boss didn’t like him for whatever arbitrary reason.

That had been tolerable, until his hours got cut, more and more each week, without the courtesy of officially firing him. The pressure built. Nobody was hiring, not even to scrub toilets, and every lead for chasing that ever-fading dream of making music turned out to be a dead end.

And so he found himself in the dubious clutches of Hollywood’s _other_ movie industry, hoping to scrape up some money until his luck changed, and hopefully slip under the radar and have it be his dirty little secret.

It was not quite what he’d expected.

Granted, he wasn’t naive enough to think the ad in the back pages of the free alternative weekly referred to a legitimate acting job. He knew what he was signing up for. But there were apparently still a few surprises left in the cliched heart of the Big City. This particular studio’s niche was one of them.

It seemed ludicrous on the surface, that anyone would pay to watch men dressed like creepy girls jamming each other in the butt. The butt-jamming he expected, it was the garish costumes and makeup that threw him off guard. But, well, different strokes for different folks. Especially if those folks had money.

The set was a rented house, one of those sterile manufactured boxes where every surface was some shade of beige and all the spotless furniture perfectly matched. The few decorations on the walls were an empty gesture, void of personality. It would have felt unoccupied even if there had been someone living there.

He heard someone stomp up behind him, interrupting his disdainful gazing. “You eaten today?”

“Not really. I’ll be okay.” He frowned at the thought of someone fussing over him, and turned around to protest.

“Nah, I’m not worried. I just don’t want you blowing chunks on my dick when you suck it.” 

Apparently this was his scene partner. He was thin and lanky and towered over Jeordie, thanks to a slightly scuffed pair of chunky platform boots. His hair was that deadly dull shade of black that only came from a bottle, and spilled down over his pale shoulders and chest. “Call me Marilyn,” he said with a smirk. That voice didn’t sound like much of a Marilyn. More like a bag of gravel falling down some old stairs. He was dressed in something that resembled a distorted funhouse-mirror vision of feminine sexiness; a dingy corset with stray laces dangling everywhere, ruffled underpants, and ripped sheer stockings over his long skinny legs.

“I’m Jeordie,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Rudeness aside, Marilyn at least didn’t seem sad or desperate. Jeordie was going to take whatever comfort he could get, and simply not winding up in some sob story for smug people to moralize about was good enough for now.

“You haven’t been in LA very long, have you?”

“No,” said Jeordie, a bit irritated that he was apparently broadcasting that somehow and didn’t know how to shut off the signal.

“So where are you running from?”

“Florida.”

“No shit,” said Marilyn. “Me too.”

Before either of them had a chance to cautiously prod each other for more information, Jeordie was ushered over to a makeshift makeup studio in the bathroom, various tubes, bottles, and compacts strewn over the gleaming granite counter. A tired-looking woman with frazzled blonde hair gestured for him to sit in a folding chair. He sat as still as he could and closed his eyes, hoping that would make it go quicker.

Once she was done smearing and daubing and penciling, Jeordie looked up at his reflection and his throat tightened a bit. His hair was teased up, and dramatic black over his eyelids and mouth stood out against the ghostly white covering the rest of his face. The thought washed over him before he had time to squelch it: he made one hell of a lady. 

This was only reinforced when the woman shoved a boxy, bright orange dress into his hands. “This looks about your size,” she said. “Try it on.” He slid into it and didn’t question further when she handed him a pair of colorful striped stockings that clashed with it horribly yet looked _right_ somehow.

Apparently Marilyn agreed. He hovered in the doorway and grinned at Jeordie, his overdone lipstick revealing his teeth like a scab popping open. “What’s your name?”

“I already told you. It’s Jeordie.”

“No, I mean your porn name.” He paused. “Pick a woman’s name. It’s funnier that way, trust me.”

Jeordie mulled it over while admiring his new appearance. The dress looked quirky and retro, like something out of a 60s teen fashion magazine. “Twiggy,” he said before he could second-guess himself. “It’s Twiggy.”

He followed his co-star into the master bedroom and over to the catalog-perfect bed covered in matching eggshell-and-khaki accent pillows. It looked like it needed a good messing up, and he felt confident they were up to the job. He doubted Marilyn was any fonder of this tedious suburban bullshit than he was.

As he sank into the bedding, Marilyn leaned over him with pursed lips and he was taken aback. He hadn’t counted on there being any kissing (he figured the director would want to keep their makeup intact) and was afraid it was going to be one of those fake porn kisses that didn’t even connect, or worse yet, one of those creepy little tongue-tip waggles that held the other person’s face at a distance, shattering any illusion of intimacy. Somehow that thought bothered him more than the idea of locking lips with a stranger.

But no, Marilyn grabbed the back of Jeordie’s neck and drew him in close. Their mouths joined and Marilyn _mmmm_ ed, soft and deep, as his tongue swirled against the other man’s. Jeordie felt his skin grow warmer. _Holy fuck, he’s actually really into this._ He wrapped his arms around Marilyn, skimming his fingers over the worn fabric of his corset.

Soon Marilyn’s underwear was flung aside on the floor and Jeordie’s dress was hitched up to reveal he hadn’t been wearing any. There was a lot more pausing and rearranging than expected. It hadn’t quite dawned on Jeordie that these were still movies, and that entailed things like blocking and editing. After the third time the director barked at him to shove aside so both their dicks were visible to the camera guy, he finally got the hang of putting himself on display, and when he slid off the bed and dropped to his knees to suck off Marilyn, he made sure to spread his own legs just so, and tilt his head at the proper angle.

He slid his hands up Marilyn’s bony thighs, accidentally ripping one stocking even more, which he ignored as he was busy licking up the other man’s shaft. It twitched under his touch and he smiled. Not bad for a first-timer. He took the tip in his mouth, gently sucking, then plunged forward, taking as much of it as he could without gagging. He backed up and barely had time to notice there was a smear of black lipstick near the base before Marilyn grabbed his head and shoved it back down.

Jeordie fell into a steady rhythm, dragging his spit-slicked lips along Marilyn’s length. He felt it throb against the roof of his mouth and grunted, looking up at Marilyn with heavy eyelids. Marilyn exhaled roughly and pushed his head away, pulling out. Jeordie followed his lead when Marilyn pulled him back up on the bed, then grabbed at him and spun him around so his ass was level and parallel with Marilyn’s face. It was awkward, since this position was clearly more for the benefit of the camera than for either of them. Nonetheless, he quivered when he heard Marilyn spit, and felt the warm drizzle of it slither down his flesh. 

His heart sped up when he felt a finger poking at his entrance, and he made a sharp huff when it plunged inside. It was uncomfortable for a moment, but he grew accustomed and couldn’t help feeling a rush of heat hit him at the sound of Marilyn’s breath getting faster and heavier, and soon a second finger made its way in, accompanied by Marilyn hissing at him. “You like that, don’t you. _Slut._ ”

He did.

After some further scrambling he hoped would be cut, including Marilyn fumbling with a bottle of lube that ended up exploding all over them and the bedding when he squeezed a little too hard, Jeordie steeled himself for the main event. He posed in a way he hoped would be sufficiently filthy, face towards his partner and ass towards the camera, and slowly impaled himself on the other man’s stiff cock, pausing both to ensure his own comfort, and to torment Marilyn. 

Jeordie squirmed as Marilyn’s hands clamped down on his sides and he thrust up into him. “You’re dirty. You’re _so fucking dirty_ ”. There was an edge of joy and awe in his growl, and Jeordie responded by thrashing back, bucking his hips and squeezing down, making Marilyn close his eyes and bite his lip.

Marilyn shifted around and hit something inside just right and Jeordie - no, _Twiggy_ \- gasped as he bounced up and down on Marilyn’s cock, rolling his head back and undulating his spine as the tension built up and his nerves fired hotly along his limbs with increasing speed. Marilyn groaned and dug one hands into Twiggy’s thigh. He grabbed at Twiggy’s dick and pumped it, his grip tightening and his hand getting faster and more frantic as his partner’s balls tightened up and desperate noises rattled in his throat. 

Twiggy moaned and squeezed his eyes shut when his body erupted, spilling onto Marilyn’s collarbone and chest, and the way his ass clenched sent the wave of ecstasy crashing over his partner in turn.

“Fuck!” he cried out, jagged and raw, as his body snapped and shuddered. Twiggy slumped into him like a dead weight, and grudgingly relented when Marilyn pushed him off and sank against the headboard, eyes closed and limbs heavy.

Without thinking, Twiggy touched his asshole and examined his fingers. “Oh,” he said numbly, looking at the slick mess of lube and jizz, overwhelmed and only vaguely aware the camera was still rolling.

He was sweaty and soiled and his legs wobbled under him and his breath was halting. That dirty talk that seemed hot as hell a few minutes ago rang hollow and silly now. But for those fleeting moments, flipping his hair around and smiling wide at the universe while Marilyn hammered into him, he really had felt like a star.

The both of them spent a few minutes resting, then Jeordie, once again just Jeordie, stumbled to his feet. He blinked at some stray makeup dust sneaking into the corner of his eye, and plucked a pubic hair out of his teeth with his clean hand, which Marilyn cackled at. Jeordie was startled when the other man grabbed him and kissed the side of his face.

“See you around, Twiggy,” said Marilyn, and he strode off and shut himself in the bathroom.

Jeordie figured it was just a polite lie. 

As he walked out of the impossibly tidy front entrance, considerably less broke, he realized he never got the other guy’s real name. Then again, he was right, it _was_ funnier to imagine his name was actually Marilyn.

* * *

A few weeks later Jeordie found himself wandering Hollywood Boulevard at dusk just to finally know what the deal was. He was aimlessly weaving through the morass of slow-moving tourists buying tacky t-shirts and looking for particular names on the Walk of Fame, all the while doing his damnedest to avoid the knockoff costumed characters and related pests, though he did get a sick laugh out of the guy hawking tours of notorious murder sites. He found the whole experience underwhelming, and wound up ducking into a harshly-lit shop with a bunch of fuzzy handcuffs and vinyl lingerie on display in the window in order to get a pair of particularly chatty Scientologists off his back.

“Looking for something special?” A rough, familiar voice crept into his ear, and Jeordie jolted, then exhaled with a weak laugh. Marilyn was dressed only slightly less ridiculously than he was at work, his pale and slender frame swimming in a dark red fake fur coat over leather pants. The crooked smile he flashed at Jeordie felt a lot more genuine this time despite being lacquered in thick purple-black gloss.

“Come with me. We should celebrate,” he said.

“What for?” said Jeordie.

He pointed at one of many outsize VHS boxes on the shelf in front of them. It was emblazoned with obscene candy-colored text slapped onto an over-saturated but unmistakable photo of the two of them groping each other.

“Look at us,” said Marilyn. “We’re famous.”

He motioned towards the door and beckoned. It didn’t matter where he was going. Jeordie smiled and followed him out into the blur of lights and noise.


End file.
